* * *
He couldn’t.
He truly couldn’t.
Terrified of being fucked raw again, Ben cried out desperately—but his traitorous body still reacted, clenching around Haimar’s length.
His voice cracked, torn between resentment and pleading.
“I can’t…! Ah—I really can’t take it…!”
He didn’t even have the strength to twitch his fingers.
His limbs felt like jelly, barely able to push weakly at Haimar’s chest.
His back ached from being dragged across the tile floor, his throat still bruised from earlier.
Every part of him hurt—his hole, his hips, his soul.
Yet Haimar just cupped his face, unmoved.
No sarcastic remark, no mocking “Oh? And what’ll you do about it?”—just silence.
The indifference made Ben’s chest burn.
Damn it, why am I crying now?
His lips trembled, fighting back a sob—but the tears came anyway, spilling over in hot, humiliating streams.
“I said I can’t…! Hah—why won’t you… listen…?!”
He was sobbing.
How there were still tears left, he didn’t know.
He’d never cried from sheer frustration before—let alone because he couldn’t handle sex.
Pathetic.
But the more he thought about it, the harder he cried.
And all because this man refused to show an ounce of mercy.
“Tch. You’ll pass out at this rate.”
“You—! You’re the one who…! Kept going…! Hic…!”
Haimar wiped the tears away with his thumb before pressing a kiss to Ben’s damp eyelid.
The tenderness was infuriating.
“Pull out…! Please…!”
Ben couldn’t even look down, too ashamed.
He tried to squirm back, but Haimar only chuckled.
“I warned you to prepare yourself.”
“But when someone says… to stop… you should…! Hic…!”
Thud!
With the last of his strength, Ben weakly punched Haimar’s shoulder—a pathetic, floppy hit that did nothing.
Unfazed, Haimar wiped the remaining tears from Ben’s face.
“Stop crying. You’ll swell up like a goldfish.”
“Ugh… You’ve already done more than enough. So hurry up and… get this thing out…!”
Only after Ben urged him several times did Haimar slowly pull out the shaft still lodged inside.
He had thoroughly indulged himself, tormenting Ben to the point of tears, so he figured it was about time to stop.
To wrap things up, Haimar lifted Ben—who was sprawled on the floor, too spent to move—and cradled him in his arms.
Then, he brushed back the damp, sweat-cooled strands of hair clinging to Ben’s forehead, tucking them behind his ear.
“I’ll wash you.”
The one small advantage of their current location was that they were in the bathroom, making it easier to clean up than if they’d been in the bedroom.
Of course, Ben had not a shred of energy left to wash himself, so he had no reason to refuse Haimar’s offer and silently accepted his touch.
However, there was one thing Ben had overlooked—his insides were still filled to the brim with semen.
As he absentmindedly enjoyed Haimar’s gentle hands lathering his hair and wiping his body, it belatedly dawned on him what it meant when Haimar’s fingers naturally drifted lower.
If shame could kill, he would’ve died ten times over.
He had insisted on doing it himself, but Haimar showed no intention of leaving the bathroom.
Mortified at the thought of doing that in front of him, Ben could neither protest nor resist.
In the end, they made another mess of things before he was finally carried to the bedroom.
Once laid on the bed, Ben was immediately swallowed by exhaustion, but unfortunately, his sleep lasted barely a couple of hours.
The aftershocks of their earlier frenzy crashed over him like a violent storm.
Cold.
His body trembled with chills, sweat trickling down as sharp muscle pains tore through him.
His head burned with fever, and the only sounds escaping his lips were weak, pained groans.
Freezing—yet burning up.
Even curled up like a caterpillar against the cold, his entire body radiated an oppressive heat.
This wasn’t the pleasant warmth of pleasure but a sickening, feverish fire.
Ben furrowed his brows and clutched the blanket tighter.
He wanted to sleep, but the pain kept him awake—a vicious cycle.
Why does it hurt so much when no one even beat me up?
Then again, though he hadn’t been outright pummeled, there was someone responsible for reducing him to this state.
Even if they’d finished while he was still in good condition, his body would’ve been wrecked—but after the chaos yesterday, he’d already been pushed to his limit before Haimar drove him past it.
He hadn’t expected this, but falling severely ill afterward was practically inevitable.
“Ugh… Haima…”
Every swallow scraped his throat raw.
The words he barely managed to force out from his hoarse, metallic voice didn’t even reach past his lips before dissolving into the air.
God… I’m gonna die…
Each labored breath came out as a whimper.
He lacked even the strength to lift his head, and his fever-addled mind spun dizzily.
It felt like his skull was violently rattling even while lying still, so rather than searching for a solution, resentment took the lead.
That bastard Haimar Eilec—he just won’t leave me alone.
If he’d stopped when he should have, things wouldn’t have gotten this bad.
And what the hell was he doing now, anyway?
If he had even a shred of conscience, he should’ve at least brought medicine.
Ben would’ve loved to grind his teeth, glare daggers, and unleash a torrent of complaints, but sadly, his body refused to cooperate.
His eyelids felt glued shut, and even if he forced them open, his swollen eyes would only peek through like needle holes.
Better to keep them closed—no need to give Haimar more ammunition to tease him.
“Ben.”
Not that Ben would’ve taken any mockery lying down under normal circumstances, but right now, he was too busy enduring the agony searing through his muscles.
All he wanted was for this pain to fade so he could finally sleep in peace.
“Open your eyes.”
Open them? How?
As he’d already established, if he could open them, he would’ve done so long ago to start griping.
Even if he managed, his voice was shot—he wouldn’t be able to speak anyway.
Still, since Haimar called for him, Ben tried.
But his fever-dulled brain sent sluggish signals to his body, resulting only in a few weak twitches of his eyelids.
Perhaps the process was too slow—soon, something cold pressed against his forehead.
He couldn’t see clearly, but the texture was too smooth to be a hand.
The sensation was so close it nearly brushed his nose, and Ben quickly realized it was Haimar’s own forehead touching his.
Then came that infuriatingly calm voice.
“I don’t recall telling you to hurt yourself.”
Oh, give me a break. Rolling around outside and then in the bathroom was bound to wreck anyone’s body.
Who wants to be in pain?
It was downright shameless for the very cause of his suffering to act so high and mighty.
Still, Haimar’s fingers pressed gently against Ben’s temples, and the touch felt so nice that Ben mustered all his strength to pry his eyelids open.
“You look like a sick rabbit.”
Who the hell are you calling a rabbit?
Blinking with great effort through his barely-open eyes, Ben struggled to focus his spinning vision.
In the blur, only one person stood out clearly, meeting his gaze.
A refreshing coolness seeped through Haimar’s palm, cutting through the stifling heat wrapped around Ben’s body and offering a sliver of relief.
Whoosh—
While Ben was still staring at him, the blanket wrapped around his body was suddenly yanked away.
The cold air hit his bare skin, raising goosebumps.
Already freezing, the loss of his cover made his body turn icy.
Instinctively, Ben tried to pull the blanket back, but his heavy arms barely twitched.
“…Cold…”
His cracked voice could barely form even those short words.
Carefully, he tried to speak again as his trembling limbs fumbled uselessly for the blanket—but found nothing.
“Stay still.”
Not like he could move much anyway.
Wondering what Haimar was scheming, Ben stayed quiet and watched as Haimar fetched a soft towel and wiped away the sweat clinging to his body.
The sensation was slightly chilly but not unpleasant, so Ben let him continue.
Good intentions, but…
Would it kill him to give me a heads-up?
Still, he decided to set aside his minor grievances.
He had a more pressing request.
“…Medicine…”
Ben rasped, letting Haimar prop him up slightly.
“…Please… I’m dying…”
“Wait. It won’t be long.”
* * *
